Group rides were always fun; he loved being able to cruise or fly down the streets on his motorcycle, and he loved the occasional nights where he could bring you along, even if it wasn’t quite your thing. While making a stop for everyone to get gas, Jace was knelt down in front of you, his gloves resting on the ground as his hands tied your sandals. “These things look like gladiator sandals. I told you to wear boots,” he chastised. Although it did him no good, he knew that.